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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022001">Perhaps Some Prompting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootJourney/pseuds/BarefootJourney'>BarefootJourney</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootJourney/pseuds/BarefootJourney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At her family's home in Indiana, Janeway putters through life after Voyager's return.  Bland and boring is what the doctor ordered, but that isn't likely to last long.</p><p>(Ch. 5 comes with a TW) </p><p>Chapter 6 up!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I haven't unearthed my writing muses for a long time.... like over 3 years long.  I'm open to all criticisms, kind or cruel, just as long as they're constructive.  The ride may be a little turbulent at first, as I dust aforementioned muses off and try to wrangle them back into some semblance of obedience... There will be mistakes.  And they're all mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything outside made her insides feel worse. The harsh juxtaposition of the internal permanent cold ache against the warm light of a summer afternoon, the familiarity of her childhood house, her mother puttering in the kitchen, her sister laughing at the antics of a particularly opinionated kitten she had picked up on the side of the road. The tiny puffball darted across the room and threw itself into wild acrobatics to avoid sliding into a cabinet, but was then distracted by the dangling apron string.<br/>
And proceeded to climb the leg of the person wearing it.<br/>
She was home.<br/>
But didn't feel home. She had taken a leave after all the pomp and circumstance of Voyager's return, hoping the down time would do something to counteract the weary fatigue that had taken hold of every fibre of her being. </p><p>She was grateful, but she was empty.<br/>
There was an expectation of an awkward adjustment period, but 6 months on, and Janeway still couldn't fill herself with anything more than a quickly fleeting false happiness. </p><p>She consulted with the Doctor, and with the Startfleet therapist she was required to see as part of her "reintegration".<br/>
They offered her hyposprays and continued counseling, but neither were effective. </p><p>She busied herself around the farm, spend long days out in the sun, feeling the earth beneath bare feet. </p><p>Old friends came by to say hello, but there was a disconnect between her and other people. The company they offered didn't fit the abyss she seemed to have brought back from the journey. </p><p>She tried to explain it away as just the come-down of the abrupt end to an adrenaline-propelled 7 years. </p><p>She slumped forward and stared at her coffee, hoping she could find answers or at least drown her thoughts in the bitter liquid. </p><p>"Do you want a snorkel?" </p><p>The sudden interruption jostled her from whatever trip her mind went off on.... She couldn't even remember what she had been thinking about. </p><p>"Hmm?" She inquired in her sister's direction, forcing her body to move, slothlike, looking up from the now tepid coffee. </p><p>Phoebe's chuckle did little to cover her worry.<br/>
"You alright? You've been sitting there staring at that cup like it's supposed to do something for you. Here on Earth we usually drink it. You were about to fall in, I thought drowning might be a concern." </p><p>"Oh. Uh. No, I'm fine, thanks." Her words slurred numbly on autopilot.</p><p>Phoebe inserted herself onto her big sister's lap. It would be comical if the current situation wasn't so screwy. She ended up growing a good 6 inches taller than Kathryn, but fully embraced her duty as the annoying baby of the family.<br/>
She balanced herself with one arm around Kathryn's shoulders and an elbow on the table. </p><p>"I'd be willing to wager that you are very much not fine and haven't been for a while. What were you thinking about?" </p><p>Janeway sighed.<br/>
"Honestly, Phoebe, I don't even know. A jumbled mess of things that I can't remember... I think I literally got lost in thought." </p><p>"Do you miss space?" </p><p>"No, well, yes, I do, in a way, but that's not it." </p><p>"Its gotta be weird being back here. Different daily routine, different things that need to be done, no command structure -- well, if you don't count Mom, 'cause she's got that whole in charge vibe that I am a little jealous I missed out on receiving in my chaotic artsy little genes." </p><p>Janeway smiled.<br/>
"It is a little strange. A lot strange... But I don't think that's it either. I'm pretty good at adapting and I'm grateful to be back here and to not have to carry that burden of responsibility all the time." </p><p>It was true, it had felt so good to unload the constant pressure of being responsible for the lives of her crew. </p><p>"Maybe you're just super burned out?" </p><p>Kathryn's gaze had called back to her now partially obscured view of the coffee cup.<br/>
"Maybe." </p><p>Phoebe snuggled into her sister and squeezed her.<br/>
"Wanna go for a walk to the pond and take a nap in the fort?" </p><p>'The Fort' was actually just a little bushcraft structure they had put together as kids and modified into their teen years.<br/>
It had seen many imaginative incarnations. A cave, a castle, a starship, a pirate ship, a portal to an enchanted land, a witch's hut, a sorcerer's tower.... it was a place where the rules of reality didn't matter - they had no power over a child's mind. </p><p>She wasn't doing anything else, so she nodded, acquiescing to her sister's plan. </p><p>"Katiiieee!" Gretchen's voice reverberated powerfully through the house. "Someone is at the door for you!" </p><p>Kathryn groaned. </p><p>Phoebe had the same thought.<br/>
"Gosh, you don't think it's another journalist hoping to squeeze recognition out of running yet another heroine of the Delta Quadrant story on you?" </p><p>"I sure as hell hope not. I don't know if I have it in me to be gentle and polite this time. I'd specifically said no one, not Startfleet brass, nor greedy civilian reporters, were to bother me until I agreed to be reinstated." </p><p>"Katie!" The matriarch's voice interrupted their procrastination. </p><p>"I'm holding her hostage!" Phoebe yelled back, then giggled. Wiggling and twisting to wrap both arms around her.</p><p>She knew she was one of the very rare individuals that could get away with heaping physical affection onto Kathryn. </p><p>"Phoebe, stop tormenting your sister and get the potatoes out of the cellar like I told you to an hour ago. Katie, you've got company, stop getting lost in your thick skull and bring yourself out here." </p><p>"Apparently we have to go be adults." Phoebe said the word as if it tasted sour as it rolled over her tongue. "Still doesn't excuse you from going to the fort after getting rid of whoever it is."<br/>
She extracted herself from Kathryn's lap after getting in one final squeeze. </p><p>Janeway straightened up and brushed off her clothes, hoping to shake the cobwebs out of the professionalism she hadn't pulled on since leaving San Francisco. </p><p>Only as she was halfway through the house to the door, did she realise that she was still barefoot. She dismissed the notion of running to find something to slip on. Because whatever - at least her shirt was tucked in... </p><p>She silently muttered to herself about the gall and audacity someone would have to come to her mother's house... </p><p>The disgruntled frustration and subsequent furrowed-brow scowl that had settled on her face melted away into a thousand different emotions as her company came into view. </p><p>"Seven!" She breathed with shocked, tentative excitement. </p><p>"Captain."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fluff and sap, with a drizzle of angst, before I really get going with the drama. <br/>If ya laugh, leave a kudos, if you're just as confused as I am as to where this is going, leave a comment and help sort the muses out so they don't resort to tropes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something was wrong. Immediately evident in the subtle nervous energy that shifted and twitched through the younger woman.<br/>
She had become skilled at seeing through Seven's carefully calculated mannerisms, the years of working alongside Tuvok had also proved beneficial in this circumstance. </p><p>"Come in, please." </p><p>Seven wanted to tell her how good it felt to hear her name after 18 months of only being addressed as Annika, except for her increasingly infrequent communications with Naomi and Icheb, but the notion was strangled by fear.</p><p>They awkwardly stumbled through the protocol of greetings, and decided to go upstairs after necessary introductions were made.</p><p>"Seven, what's the matter?"<br/>
Janeway couldn't take the pleasantries anymore. They were now in the safe privacy of her room. </p><p>"I'm afraid I have failed. I have found the task of being fully human too difficult to succeed in."<br/>
Emotions were tumbling over each other, churning and exploding inside her.<br/>
She wanted to seek comfort in the Captain's embrace, but didn't know how to ask, or if it would be considered inappropriate, or if she were allowed to have that kind of interaction anymore.<br/>
She was truly afraid and struggling. </p><p>"What do you mean? You haven't failed, honey." </p><p>"I believe I have. I am finding myself increasingly unable to perform the duties expected of me. I understand part of human existence is being uncomfortable and having unpleasant experiences, and that pain is normal, but I am... insufficient." </p><p>She braced herself to reveal the next part.</p><p> "I do not think I should be a human individual any longer. My knowledge makes me too dangerous to return to the Borg, but perhaps I could donate my existence to Starfleet and serve the Federation as a drone, if you would talk to them for me...." </p><p>"No."<br/>
"Very well, I am.. sorry, to have come here and intruded, but I needed to ask." </p><p>"Sit down, Seven."<br/>
The distraught woman did as she was told. </p><p>"I didn't say no to helping you. I said no to you giving up your humanity."<br/>
"But you once promised that when I was able to make the decision, you would allow me to rejoin the collective. Am I still a mindless automaton?"<br/>
"No. You are a truly remarkable and capable individual."<br/>
"Then why will you not assist me if it is my decision to make?"<br/>
"Because you are hurting and I want to help you make the hurt stop, and your solution is not the way to do that."<br/>
**** </p><p>"What's the matter, Seven?"<br/>
Janeway pressed. </p><p>"I don't know. I -- I was hoping for guidance, but I don't know what is wrong with me. The Doctor assures me I am not malfunctioning, but I don't have any other explanation. If I am not malfunctioning, then I am insufficient, unacceptable." </p><p>"What happened?" </p><p>For a supposed intelligent being, she felt incredibly stupid at her inability to choose the right words and structure them into coherent sentences. What happened which time? What was the most significant? All of them, or just one? </p><p>"I don't know where to begin." </p><p>Patient, and soft spoken, Janeway sat beside her. "It's alright."<br/>
And then came the touch that said things words could not.<br/>
Seven had found comfort in it during her time on Voyager, the barely perceptible pressure, the closeness, the safety. </p><p>Just a hand on her arm, shoulder, back...<br/>
She remembered responding to it stiffly those first few months. And then it became a reassuring link to humanity.<br/>
Now she sagged, lapsing against it, suddenly overcome with a heavy tiredness. </p><p>She had not been regenerating nor sleeping properly for months. </p><p>"Captain?"<br/>
"Mm?"<br/>
"Could we please continue this discussion tomorrow, perhaps when I am better equipped to organise my thoughts? I am finding my mental faculties to be uncooperative and sluggish."<br/>
"Sure. I'm rather exhausted myself."<br/>
"Could I stay?"<br/>
"What?"<br/>
"Would it be alright if I remained here, with you, for the duration it takes to conclude what is wrong? I do not wish to return to where I've been residing." </p><p>Janeway almost sputtered in surprise.<br/>
"You can stay for as long as you'd like, Seven. You are welcome here any time." </p><p>****<br/>
They made their way back down the stairs and found Gretchen in the kitchen. </p><p>"Mom?"<br/>
"Yes, dear?"<br/>
"Seven is going to stay for a bit." </p><p>The elder Janeway immediately stopped the task she was engaged in, and regarded the two women before her.</p><p>Gretchen's eyes twinkled.</p><p>"Can I hug her?" She asked, not removing her watery gaze from Seven. </p><p>Seven exchanged a glance with Janeway, her mind habitually checking if the action and the person performing it was alright. </p><p>Janeway gave an 'it's up to you' expression and a half-nod. </p><p>Seven shifted stiffly for a moment.<br/>
" You may proceed." </p><p>Gretchen deftly raised up onto her toes and enveloped Seven in a hug that seemed she had been waiting a thousand lifetimes to give. Deep and delicate, wanting to mark the moment, afraid it might disappear into a long lost dream. </p><p>The ex drone was startled at first, receptive to the abundant emotion radiating from this woman she had never met. </p><p>Then, she allowed it to pull her in and cradle her rough edges. She melted into the embrace. </p><p>"Oh you beautiful sweet girl." Gretchen pulled back and studied the person in her arms. "I am glad that you've finally come." She grinned and squeezed Seven's shoulders, before letting her hands slide down and catch the fingers with her own, skimming her thumbs over a mismatched set of knuckles, then releasing her. </p><p>Janeway was puzzled at her mother's display. The woman was always warm, inviting, and affectionate, but was also usually composed and didn't give much away. </p><p>It was as if she knew something no one else did, like she recognised something in Seven.... </p><p>"Katie, go take your Seven for a stroll to the pond, grab me a handful of wildflowers if they're out. Then you two can get cleaned up and set the table. Dinner should be ready by then." </p><p>"Ugh, Mom, that's so cheesey." Phoebe quipped, popping over the Dutch door with a basket of carrots and potatoes. </p><p>Gretchen tapped the back of a curly head and took the vegetables, exchanging them for a withering look and noticing the state of her youngest daughter. </p><p>"Phoebe! I sent you to the cellar for vegetables and you come back looking like you just got drafted to an epic battle with gay leprechauns and lost. Tragically. How do you manage this?" </p><p>Every part of her had some splotch of colourful paint, chalk, glitter.<br/>
She held her hands up and shrugged her shoulders.</p><p>"Talent?" </p><p>Kathryn snorted.<br/>
Gretchen sighed. </p><p>Phoebe looked over her mother's shoulder. "At least I'm not cursed. Katie, what are you doing in the kitchen, anyway?" </p><p>"Mom hasn't even started cooking yet. When the stove gets turned on, I'll go so it doesn't open up a portal to hell.... unless you'd like to return to your home world." </p><p>They stuck their tongues out at each other. </p><p>Seven observed, finding herself perfectly at ease in this atmosphere. </p><p>"Phoebe. Shower. Now."<br/>
Gretchen ordered. Phoebe rolled her eyes and started dramatically backing away from the door.</p><p>"Seven, Kathryn. Scoot. Outta my kitchen!"<br/>
Gretchen ushered them toward the door with a dish towel. </p><p>Phoebe flicked a pinch of glitter at her older sister.<br/>
Then another.<br/>
Then began attempting to give her a full body hug and transfer as much of the debris as possible.<br/>
She moved too quickly for Kathryn to swat at her, but did not plan for a strong Borg hand to come sweeping in from behind and lift her up by the back of her shirt.<br/>
"Hey, no fair!" She exclaimed as she dangled off the ground, tipping forward slightly. "You now have enhanced reinforcements!" </p><p>"The challenge is good for you. It will provide you with an opportunity to grow. Perhaps your first exercise will be to make an effort at keeping your leprechaun carnage confined to your self." </p><p>She settled Phoebe back to her feet and released her.</p><p>"I heard something about a challenge and then you lost me." She swirled around and held out her hand. "Challenge accepted." </p><p>Seven's ocular implant raised and she began lifting her hand up to shake in response before Janeway intercepted. </p><p>"Nope! Not unless you want to be locked into a never ending practical joke war with her." She redirected her attention to her little sister. "Nice try, Phoebe. Go shower and help mom."<br/>
Phoebe pouted emphatically. "Fiiiiiine."</p><p>As Phoebe skittered off and back into the house, Janeway led Seven down the dirt road.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I did intend to just skip over all this and go straight into some angst, but after spending a good amount of time writing harrowing situations and engulfing my own brain in unpleasantness, the muses saw fit to produce this.  Phoebe and Gretchen are adorable people and I want them to adopt me.<br/>I did take artistic liberties and have made Phoebe significantly younger than she is canonically, because it will work as a backstory for this version of the character later.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner was strangely… normal.  <br/>
Its conclusion was followed by Gretchen rolling off orders and doling out tasks.  <br/>
“Phoebe, pack up the leftovers.  Seven, you’re going to help me with dishes.  Katie, go pull the blankets off the line before the sun goes down and they get damp.”</p><p>It suddenly struck Kathryn that it must be eerily similar to what she sounded like on the bridge.  </p><p>After entertaining that thought for a brief moment, something else caught her attention as she folded freshly laundered and sun-dried blankets in the living room and spared a glance to the scene in the kitchen…  It was as if Seven had always been a part of their family.</p><p>Gretchen wasn’t going out of her way or outrageously attempting to make Seven fit in; she didn’t treat her with the overt politeness of a guest or stranger.  Instead, she had immediately taken to throwing her into life here.   </p><p>Seven took it all in stride and seemed grateful for the clear commands and duties bestowed upon her.  The awkwardness she walked through the door with only 6 hours before had dissipated.    </p><p>****<br/>
Chores completed, Gretchen cast her observant gaze over the 3 women before her.<br/>
Kathryn yawned.  <br/>
Phoebe ran the back of her hand over her eyes.<br/>
Seven, straight and stoic, had a dull, underlying vibration of long-standing tiredness radiating from her body.  </p><p>“Alright, all 3 of you, get ready for bed.  Phoebe, grab something for Seven to wear, please.”<br/>
An impish dimpled grin flashed as her youngest daughter’s mind came up with an idea.  <br/>
“No, Phoebe!  Pants and a shirt.  No creative interpretation allowed.  Plain old pants.  Plain old shirt.  That’s it.”<br/>
  Curls bounced every which way as she dashed up the stairs, her plans of evil thwarted.  </p><p>“Mom, I have extra clothes.”  Kathryn interjected, needlessly.</p><p>“Yes, Katie, but you’re a peanut.” </p><p>She gave her mother a withering look.</p><p>“Ah!”  Gretchen mocked in celebration.  “You’ve almost got the Janeway glare mastered!  Now, eyebrows not quite so low, chin a little firmer… this isn’t used for comedic effect.”</p><p>“Actually,” Seven supplied, “members on board Voyager referred to the Captain’s glare as ‘a real butt clencher’.  I do not believe the glare itself is funny, but laughter was had at the description of its effects.  I, for one, have been at the receiving end of it on a number of occasions and have not experienced mirth as a direct result.”  </p><p>“What IS it with sailors and butt stuff?”  Phoebe had returned, holding out a set of pajamas for Seven.  “Here.”  </p><p>Kathryn shook her head, the hint of a frown on her brow.  <br/>
“First, how is it that at 25 years old, you are a spastic, LOUD, ball of hyperactivity?  Secondly, given the first thing, how do you manage to just silently, randomly pop out of nowhere?  Third, how do you find sexual innuendo with damn near everything, and fourth:  we are not sailors.”</p><p>Phoebe didn’t miss a beat.<br/>
“It’s a gift.  Hard, long, arduous months at secret ninja school wearing a coat of cymbals and cinderblock shoes.  I dunno, that one might be a gift too, or just too much of my formative years toddling after Tom and his usual surrounding cast of characters.  And yes you are.  StarFLEET. StarSHIP.  You’re all sailors.  Astronaut basically means Star SAILOR.  Seven just said members of your crew were talking about butt clenching.  So either you’re going around spanking people again, or you’ve got crewmen following in the blue balled butt prints of the Legend of the Rear Admiral.” </p><p>Seven held the clothes under her arm.  “I am not aware of the Captain spanking anyone, but I have witnessed her do something that Tom Paris referred to as a ‘bitch slap’.”  Who is this Rear Admiral?  I do not believe I have assimilated the data on such an individual within Starfleet whose merits included ‘butt stuff’.”  </p><p>Kathryn nearly choked on her own breath of air, shooting a pleading look to her mother who just shrugged, smirked, and waited for an animated Phoebe to continue.  </p><p>“Oh my god.”  Kathryn's hands splayed over her face.  </p><p>“Perhaps you should ask Tom next time you see him.  I can't do his rendition of the story justice."  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Rear Admiral thing is something I stole from real life.  If it is your sort of humour, or if you, like me, come from a military family and know someone that would appreciate it and could use a laugh, go to YouTube, search Angry Cops Rear Admiral Steals a Dildo.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is where the kiddos should get off the ride.  The dreamy reprieve ends here.  Next chapter is likely going to come with a heavy trigger/ content warning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry Seven, since Phoebe’s studio is being renovated, the guest room is housing all of her supplies, so you’re gonna have to bunk with me.”<br/>
Kathryn said as she veered into her bedroom.</p><p>“That is alright, Captain.  I find the arrangement sufficient.  Similar to when you would stay in the Cargo Bay after unsettling events, your close proximity is somehow comforting to me.” </p><p>Janeway startled, her mind unsure of what that meant or how often Seven was aware of her presence while she regenerated.  </p><p>“However, this will be my first Sleep Over, and I will require your guidance on rules, traditions, and protocol.”  </p><p>“Nothing fancy tonight, I’m afraid.  I’m pretty beat and from the way you’re fighting to keep your eyelids from slamming shut, I’d say you’re feeling the effects of a rough few days as well.  I figure we wash up, change, then just climb into bed and sleep."</p><p>Seven nodded.  </p><p>The vibrant playful energy Phoebe had infused their surroundings with vanished in the quietness of the bedroom, revealing some of the underlying unease Seven arrived with. </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>Seven laid on her side, facing the window, Janeway behind her. <br/>
The ex borg’s fingers jittered restlessly as she crossed her arms around herself.</p><p><br/>
“Seven?”<br/>
“Yes?”<br/>
“If comfort is what you are seeking right now, could I perhaps just provide it?  You can stop at any time if the interaction is too overwhelming.”</p><p>Seven blinked into the dimly lit room, pushing away the reminders of not being able to respond appropriately to physical interaction.<br/>
“That would be… acceptable.”</p><p> </p><p>A small hand came to touch her arm, waiting for Seven’s initial tense flinch to pass.  The tactile sensation was soothing.<br/>
A contrast to the unpleasantness she felt with Chakotay. </p><p>The hand began to move, drifting and sweeping in a captivating rhythm, up and down.  <br/>
Up, down, up…. She closed her eyes into it, then her mind interrupted and shot out a sudden signal of danger.  She filtered it so it only appeared as a tiny stiff pause.  </p><p>Janeway’s intuition caught it though, and she stilled her hand, opting for a reduced area of contact and a slow, steady flick of her thumb.</p><p>Warmth and contentment, even something akin to pleasure, were a satisfying invasion to her mind, taking over for uncertainty, fear, disgust.  It elicited a desire for closeness.</p><p>Maybe she only needed to tell him to do this, direct him to touch her the way her captain did. And if their physical intimacy started with this, she would be able to bridge the gap between the different types of activity.<br/>
  Perhaps she is not a broken failure and this is all she needs from him to be successful in their relationship and her humanity.</p><p>Thoughts of him faded until they were nothing more than an imperceptible phantom, a long forgotten spectre, brushed away by delicate fingers as they lulled her off to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p><br/>
Hues of orange and gold spilled lazily across the walls, and cast an ethereal glow over Seven’s face, she blinked into the sunrise, but allowed her eyes to drift closed once more, briefly playing with the way her lashes sparkled in the light as they touched.  </p><p>The soft weight against her back stirred, then settled, and she carefully peered over her shoulder, trying to not create any excessive movement.  Somehow her captain had gravitated toward her while she slept and her head now, still in blissful unconsciousness, bowed between Seven’s shoulder blades, her arms had curled inward and her chin rested on her knuckles.    </p><p>A smile spread widely across Seven’s face, bubbling up from somewhere undiscovered.  But it was a place she longed to return to.  <br/>
She remained in bed for an unknown stretch of time, watching the slow migration of the sun’s rays fill the room and chase the night’s shadows from the earth outside the window.  </p><p>She peeked at Kathryn again, regarding her for a long stretch of reverence.  </p><p>  It was a curious sensation, wanting to preserve this moment.  There was peace here.  </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It gets heavy.  If chaotic descriptions of self-forced sex are going to bother you, I suggest this might be a chapter you will want to skip over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>******* </p><p>“I believe that I have discovered the solution to my problem and I shall return to put it into practical application.”</p><p>She gathered her shoes and transport card.  <br/>
“Thank you, Captain.  You have been most helpful.” </p><p>“Any time, Seven.”  Her mind was reeling over how she possibly could have helped her address what was bothering her.  She hadn’t done anything.</p><p>Caught off guard, she shook Seven’s offered hand, unsure why her heart stung at the gesture.  </p><p>Gretchen observed, trying to rest in her secret knowledge that Seven would be back, but she was unsure when, how, and in what condition.  She hated seeing that newly reignited flame in Kathryn be extinguished so suddenly.  <br/>
The neutral veneer of a well worn command mask quickly fell into place and her eyes dulled as she snuffed out the glimmer in her soul watching her friend happily disappear down the driveway.</p><p>*******</p><p> </p><p>****<br/>
Arriving back at her place of residence, she was eager to discover if her new hypothesis was capable of fixing her defect.<br/>
She had told him that she was going to visit Icheb at the Academy for a few days - the subject of Kathryn always seemed to infuse the air with tension, so she chose to omit that detail and after stopping in to meet Icheb at his scheduled lunch hour, she arranged to find her captain.</p><p>Chakotay was not expecting her to return so soon, but certainly not disappointed with the greeting he received.  </p><p>****</p><p>Wrong.<br/>
It all feels wrong.</p><p>He would touch.<br/>
And breathe.<br/>
His mere presence was unsettling.</p><p>His touch was not the same.  She even tried placing his hands where she had felt the captain’s just the night before.  <br/>
She recoiled at his voice, his large body.<br/>
His greedy, wandering fingers.  <br/>
But she forced herself to do better.  Be better.  She would make her captain proud of her accomplishments in humanity.</p><p>She followed the steps as dictated by her research, waiting to feel the positive reactions it had promised.  She didn’t want this, but she was supposed to.  If she was going to be human, she was supposed to love this…. This revered pinnacle of the species.  </p><p>His breath hot in her ear, against her neck.  She resisted the urge to push him away.  He smiles, delighted, as she parted her legs.  His hulking frame smothered her.</p><p>Distantly… partially detached, she could feel her body cycling through the build up to what was colloquially, though not scientifically, deemed the primary purpose of this activity.  </p><p>She sent her mind back to collect the memories of comfort from the night before.  Janeway’s hand resting on her arm, the contentment of just being there next to her, with the underlying notion of wanting to roll closer and increase the surface area of their contact. </p><p>“Hmm.”  An involuntary hum at the happy thought.<br/>
He assumed it was for him.  And increased the intensity of his performance, applauding himself with the percussion of skin against skin.  </p><p>His enthusiasm and the shadowed room hid her grimace.  Her pleasant memories were being driven from her, even they did not want to stick around for this show, choosing to abandon her rather than be sullied by this… filth.</p><p>It was messy, she thought.  Unsanitary.  Unnecessary.  She had achieved the end result by her own hands without the overwhelming feelings of repulsion and disgust.  A purely physical activity for her that may hold some use in occasionally draining excess energy or tension, but that was all.  Adding a partner seemed superfluous.  Complicated and inefficient. </p><p>His mouth on her jaw, her cheek, her lips, her shoulders, leaving behind trails of saliva, the erratic way in which he flailed, his sweat dripping onto her exposed skin, the salt burning from the friction of where their bodies collided… a familiar knot of nausea began to form. </p><p>She jerked against it, gasping, drawing in air to keep the bile where it belonged, an attempt to quell the visceral response.  It only brought with it the taste of him and his scent, causing her to writhe.</p><p>As always, it encouraged him.  </p><p>It would be over soon, she told herself.  <br/>
But then she would have to lie there, tangled in damp bedding, because he had informed her that it was considered rude to immediately shower and clean up after.  That protocol dictated a couple need not worry about the disarray after copulation, and could bask in being together after sharing something beautiful. </p><p>To Seven, it wasn’t just a disarray, it was a disgrace.  And her opinion held there wasn’t anything beautiful about rubbing genitals together and exchanging bodily fluids. </p><p>Her own body’s daily functions were repugnant enough.  </p><p>And she surely didn’t want to bask in the loathsome reminders of it.</p><p>But she was supposed to.  Humans are supposed to.  Her captain would be happy when she succeeded.<br/>
So she found the determination to see it through.</p><p><br/>
*******<br/>
The pain was irrelevant.  According to the data she accumulated, it was normal, even desirable to experience pain on a vast scale.  Some instances concluded that the presence or addition of pain was helpful or necessary to assure that the activity reach completion.</p><p>Seven had explored that entire scale twice. </p><p>The more she immersed herself in this area of humanity, the more viciously her body and mind seemed to reject it.  From the first touch to his last grunt, she could feel already sensitive synapses ready to slam on the trigger for panic.</p><p> </p><p>********<br/>
She initiated this time.  <br/>
Perhaps if she had the control from the beginning, it would be different.  </p><p>Harder.  Faster.  She set the pace.<br/>
Maybe she could find what everyone else likes about it before the same old feelings catch up to her.  Maybe she could outrun them.  Or… outfuck them.<br/>
She pulled almost everything from her research and applied it.</p><p>How stupid she was to think she could outsmart her own defective mind.  As her movements became more ragged, wild, frantic and her muscles clenched and spasmed…. The thing she thought was behind her, was suddenly waiting right in front of her to smack her confidence and celebratory determination in the face.  </p><p>Her failure mocked her.  <br/>
She hated this.  She could not imagine a lifetime of functioning this way.  </p><p>She kept going until a dumb satiated expression painted his visage.  <br/>
She laid awhile as per protocol.<br/>
Just as freedom was in sight, his arm surreptitiously snaked over her, and held her close.  </p><p>No.  No.  It was all wrong.  After sinking at the confirmation of her disappointing insufficiency, and inability to perfect the activity that would make her fully human, her heart began to thrash, needing to escape.  Uncomfortable being in such close proximity to him.</p><p>She must find refuge. <br/>
*******</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She didn’t know what she was thinking…  She wasn’t even sure she’d thought at all since the afternoon before.  <br/>
Seven showed up and then things just… felt normal.  One moment flowing into the next.  Laughter, contentment, peace.  <br/>
She watched Seven retreat, each step shrinking her smaller and smaller until she disappeared, and with her, the blessed feeling of living.  <br/>
She felt herself once again in the tired purgatory she had woken up to every day for the last year and a half.  <br/>
The brilliance of the world around her, the sun dancing off the pond, the vibrant spectrum of flowers and glinting rich emerald of foliage … faded into a muted backdrop of mundane.  She’d hardly noticed it was Summer until she was sent on her mother’s thinly veiled kitchen-exile mission to pick wildflowers with Seven.  </p><p>And this morning, when they woke up. ... They. ... She had to wonder for a moment why the idea of using “they” in the context of daily activities hadn’t felt foreign.  It seemed as if it were almost always that way.  <br/>
She reminded herself that she went to bed and woke up alone every damned day for 7 years… add another 18 months onto that if she wanted to include the time on Earth, save for the few instances she and Phoebe had stayed up until they passed out on the couch or talking in her room. </p><p> She drew in a lungful of honeysuckle laced air, and the taste of yesterday permeated her mind with immersive images. </p><p>Seven’s face, graced with a soft smile as she engaged in philosophical discussion with Gretchen, her own stifled laughter when her mother threw Seven’s mind off balance, presenting a conundrum that required a few minutes to ponder.<br/>
The seamless way they all went about night chores.   </p><p>But this morning… cradled by her bed, supported by a familiar presence.  A cocoon of happiness and belonging.  Awareness had come to her slowly, gently pouring through her body, weaving at leisure from head to pleasantly heavy limbs.<br/>
A whispered hint of contact between her forehead and Seven’s back.<br/>
Eyelids fluttered, lashes flitted against a shadow of fabric in front of them.  Seven’s steady breathing seemed to set the pace for her own.  </p><p>She could feel a studious gaze upon her and cracked open an eye, to meet another peering down from above, to which she presented a lopsided grin.</p><p>No analysing, no shame or internal debate.  The moment stretched on into infinity, overtaking all other roads and detours that her mind could possibly construct.  There was only this.  Nothing before, nothing after, just….this... home.  </p><p>****<br/>
“Katie?”  </p><p>Phoebe’s tone was quiet.  </p><p>“Yeah?” She flinched against the assault of reality that jostled her out of her thoughts.  Once more, the world turned from green to grey.  She noticed that she hadn’t left the porch.</p><p>“You get lost in there again?”  </p><p>“Mm.   Good thing I have an annoying little sister to just barge in and come to my rescue.” </p><p>“Glad to be of service, milady.”  She gave a theatrical, deep bow.  “Anyway, Mom needs us to go get the hay off the top field.  They’re almost done baling.”<br/>
*******</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey folks, this is kind of a "blah" chapter, where I was just sketching the idea down.  I wasn't going to post it in this spot, but wanted to toss something out there so I could get the word out that I hope to be back on track soon, especially with Something Empty.  But I've had a gnarly intensifying head/neck ache for the past few days that is refusing to release its grip, and my vision is a bit blurry and thoughts are barely cooperative.  When I get little moments that I can push it aside, I may be able to produce some short chapters</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*******</p><p>The hot water and aromatic bubbles were a delicious welcoming reprieve to the end of the day.<br/>
Kathryn stepped into the tub, sinking until she was completely submerged, feeling fatigued muscles joyfully greet their reward.  </p><p>She had always enjoyed hay season, despite not having much passion for farm or Traditionalist life.  There was something satisfying about being in a field all day, and flinging, stacking, strategizing how to get the most onto a truck per load - she would challenge wagers on the amount of bales she could get on a truck bed or trailer by eyeing up what sat on the field and the vehicle being loaded. ….  Outworking the boys...  Every time there were new crew members on the team that donated their equipment and time in exchange for some of the crop and help on their own lands, they would offer her the task of driving the truck or keeping track of how many had been stacked.  She would ignore them and march down the line, hoisting a bale in each hand and tossing them onto the tailgate, not stopping to chat, and continued the process.  The regulars knew what she was capable of and came to expect and rely on her to end up running the operation by 20 minutes in.  Calling orders and shouting instructions, climbing on top of loads to strap them down before sending them on their way.  <br/>
  <br/>
Then came the unloading and restacking in a barn.  The work was hard, sweaty, and she kept going, leaning into the way her shoulders burned, yelling when someone carelessly stacked a wall for the sake of speed, and she bumped into it, demonstrating how little it would take to topple, potentially killing someone.</p><p>Farm life had also prepared her for Starfleet, probably better than the Academy.  Long days, early mornings, the importance of doing a job right, even if it took a little more time.  It kept her more fit than even Tuvok’s rigorous training regime.  </p><p>Days like the one she just had required all her focus and depleted any energy that would be spent fretting about other things.  Her mother had been correct.  It was one of the most constructive ways to work through bullshit.  Intrusive thoughts and traumatic events had a hard time holding their grip and were usually whittled away by noon, even if they returned the next day, the break from the mental drama was nice.    </p><p>She scrubbed away the dust and dirt, pulled a few slivers from her hands and reluctantly pulled the plug on her now cool bath.  The grime-darkened water swirled as it disappeared down the drain.  She wished her insides could be as easily cleansed as her outsides.  </p><p>Little did she know, Seven was attempting that wish a world away.</p><p>*******</p><p>Two Weeks Later</p><p>0245</p><p>Sleep had engaged Kathryn in a game of hide and seek.  She was losing.</p><p>The discomfort and inability to drift off frustrated her.  She flailed and flopped every which way.  <br/>
Too hot, too cramped, too drafty, too spread out.  <br/>
What the hell was wrong with her?  </p><p>Perhaps she just needed a stiff drink and a walk outside to initiate something that at least resembled sleep.</p><p>Leaving her room, she tied her robe and tip toed down the stairs, finding her mother in the kitchen. </p><p>“I knew you’d be up tonight.”  Gretchen uncapped the whiskey, and began creating a concoction in 2 glasses. </p><p>“And that I’d be going for the hard liquor too, huh?”</p><p>“Yes.”<br/>
“How?”<br/>
“Can’t tell you that yet.”  Her usual excuse.  Tom had always called it Momdar.  </p><p>Kathryn just cocked her head and accepted the offered beverage, slumping into a chair.</p><p>“Katie-girl..”  Gretchen’s voice crooned in the tone that meant she was about to open the door for her heart to speak.</p><p>She shook her head, a futile attempt at thwarting the direction of this conversation.  She couldn’t go there.  Not today, not with this.  She knew her mother’s sage advice was going to make her feelings real.  It was going to justify everything swirling inside her.</p><p>“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”</p><p>Her brain answered yes, but her lips and eyes wouldn’t let the admission escape, they slammed shut, squeezing as if waiting for a permanent seal to form.  Her head nodded, betraying her desperation to remain unattached, objective.  </p>
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